Affection
by leo-lowen
Summary: Twoshot. Onesided OCIru, IruAnko, implied onesided SaiSaku. Affection to Michiko was Iruka. She had admired her teacher for quite a while... Wasn’t there a word for girls who flirted with older men? Lolita?


"Class," Iruka-sensei called, as the seventh period science class was packing up. "Don't forget to do the review questions on the back of the worksheet."

"Hey," Michiko walked up to her teacher, smiling amiably. "My friends are taking me to the Phantom of the Opera this weekend. Have you seen it? Is it any good?"

Iruka chuckled. "Yes I have. And my ears have never been the same. How could that girl sing so high?"

Michiko laughed quietly to herself, leaving the classroom. That Iruka never ceased to entertain her. She smiled, thinking of her teacher, as she headed towards the empty classroom that the school deemed worthy of after-school art club.

Maybe one day… She ground to an immediate halt, realizing where the ideas were headed. _Fifteen year age difference_, her common sense screamed at her. _It's immoral, and unnatural, and…_The voice of reason slipped away as she remembered his smile. So, maybe age… maybe age could be overcome. Maybe it wasn't as controversial as she thought. Maybe, in the face of their love, people would understand… _and maybe you'll sprout feathers and take to the sky,_ her damned common sense quipped, self-satisfied. She scowled, and quickened her pace. She needed to make it to art club.

"Everybody," came an irritatingly familiar voice, "Today, we're all going to be working on a piece that portrays affection." The president of the art club, Sai, smiled at all fourteen in the room, in an almost-condescending way.

"You wouldn't know affection if it bit you in the ass, you freak," Michiko grumbled under her breath, sitting in her usual place. She took out my sketchbook and leafed through it. _Bad, worse, okay, terrible,_ she thought critically, before opening it to a new page, and sitting there, staring at the paper. What Sai had assigned the club to do had already managed to escape her.

"Affection," he repeated casually, not looking up from his own easel. She shivered, vaguely frightened at the possible telepathy, but switched her focus to her drawing.

Affection to Michiko was Iruka. She had admired her teacher for quite a while now, but had never done anything about it. Wasn't there a word for girls who flirted with older men? Lolita? She let her hand glide over the paper, making marks here and there, until she had an ocean. A pretty good ocean, too. She added five quick lines in the middle, and smiled. The outline of a dolphin.

She got up and went into the hallway, striding purposefully towards the water fountain. She passed what at first seemed like a deserted classroom, with the door halfway open. Then she did a double take.

There, in that seemingly deserted classroom, her Iruka-sensei, and a history teacher, Anko, sharing a heated kiss. Her eyes widened. Something crumbled within her. (_my resolve? my hopes? my soul? whatever it is, it hurts) _She made a small, strangled noise, and they both looked back at her, surprised and considerably abashed.

Iruka scratched the back of his head embarrassedly. "It seems like you've caught me at a bad time…" he trailed off, laughing slightly.

Anko gave Michiko a friendly smile. "Iruka, is this one of your students?"

Michiko managed to choke out something along the lines of, "I'm sorry, I'll leave you two alone," and quickly backtracked until she once again reached the art room. She walked over to her place, and sat down numbly. She stared at the sketch of the dolphin that at one time seemed to hold so much promise to her. Impulsively, she reached over, grabbed a scalpel, and slashed the sketch with a huge, ripping sound that caused everyone in the room to look up at her in surprise and alarm.

"Why did you do that?" Sai asked her, expressionless as always.

Something smoldered within her.

"Because, _Sai_" she spat out his name mockingly, scathingly, "Because of age difference."

"Wha-?"

She interrupted him. "Because of societal standards, because it's taboo, improper, controversial, not allowed…" With every word, she added another gash to her sketch. She stalked up to him, grabbed him roughly by the collar, (_I'm going to make him understand, dammit_) and pressed the scalpel to his neck. "Because I love him," she hissed.

He gave her a thoroughly unreadable look, and she noticed that the scalpel was drawing blood. She loosened her grip, let it clatter to the floor, and stepped back.

"I don't fully comprehend 'love', but I've read that if you truly love someone, you shouldn't let any person, rule or thing stop you." He pointed towards the door, and gave her a funny half-smile. "Go find him. Lucky girl, you already know how you feel about him. So don't let him pass you by."

She looked up at him, and the truth of his statement hit her. She turned to walk out the door, but not before seeing his painting. She paused, struck by what a remarkable artist he was. The cherry blossoms in the painting looked almost real enough to touch…


End file.
